You Can Reach Out Your Hand
by collegefangirl3791
Summary: What if Evan explained that the letter wasn't meant for Connor to see? What if Connor lived and they actually became friends? Everybody lives, nobody dies, and Connor is not a good person. He's really angry, actually. Basically a story about friendship, being seen, and growth. TW: mentions of suicide, self-harm, panic attacks, intrusive thoughts, drug use, bullying
1. Chapter 1: Flying Blind

Chapter 1: I'm Flying Blind

Evan's greatest skill, besides being anxious and saying stupid things, is doing just the wrong thing at just the wrong time. So he really shouldn't be surprised that he manages to make Connor Murphy mad at him on his first day of senior year.

Not that it's totally his fault. It's Jared who decides to compare Connor to a school shooter and laugh about it. Evan tries, uselessly, to get Jared to stop because Connor has this look like he's balancing on a razor's edge of calm. But all his quiet stuttering does no good.

"I was just… kidding, it's a joke…?" Jared's talking like he thinks Connor is an idiot.

"Yeah no, it was funny." Connor's voice tips from cool disinterest to something harsh and bordering on dangerous as he takes a step towards them. So much for balancing. "Am I not laughing hard enough for you?"

The situation is too tense and Evan doesn't know what to do, but at least Jared seems to have caught onto the fact that he should shut up. He's scared now, Evan can tell.

"You're such a freak," Jared says, trying to laugh, before turning and hurrying off. Evan hesitates just a second too long. Long enough for Connor to pin him with those angry blue eyes, and Evan tries to laugh, like, _"I don't know what's wrong with him, he's weird, right?"_ Connor doesn't take it that way.

"What the fuck are you laughing at? Stop fucking laughing at me!" Connor looks so fierce that Evan almost runs when he starts striding towards him.

"No, no I was- I'm not- I just-"

"You think I'm a freak?" Connor shouts. "I'm not a freak, you're the fucking freak!" He's almost at a run when he shoves Evan hard out of his way and disappears down the hall.

Evan's not sure when he hits the floor. He just knows it hurts, and he feels for a moment as though he should just stay there forever. But they're all looking at him, he can tell, so scrambles to his feet and straightens his shirt.

"Hey, I'm sorry about my brother – I saw him push you. He's a psychopath. Evan, right?" For a moment, Evan can't register that it's beautiful Zoe Murphy talking to him. The people around them are whispering, although, for once, he thinks, not about him. About the boy who just strode off down the hall looking every inch the violent psychopath she says he is.

He parrots his name back at her like a dumbass. "Evan."

They talk, and Evan manages to hyperventilate, ramble, and screw up royally before calling out, too late, as she's already leaving, "You wanna sign my cast?"

"What did you say?" she looks at him, a little bemused, but not unkind. Still, it's too much.

"Uh, I didn't, uh- What did you say?"

No one signs his cast for the rest of the day. Mostly because he doesn't ask because he decides it sounds stupid to try to make friends like that. Everyone will just think he's desperate (he is) and probably laugh at him. Still, the blank white of his cast is starting to look like failure. Like the fact that he has no friends and his mom is wrong, this year won't be different, because he's just pathetic with or without a conversation starter.

At the end of the day, when his mom tells him she can't pick him up from therapy after all, he goes to the computer lab to try to type up a new letter to himself and print it before going. He ignores the miserable pull in his gut and the disappointment he feels and the fact that his whole day was terrible and tries to write something positive.

 _Dear Evan Hansen,_

 _Today is going to be_

He can't write the next word. He fidgets, looks around the room. No one else is around to judge his typing or lack thereof, no one to accidentally see how pathetic he is that he has to write letters to himself.

He tries again.

 _Today will be ama-_

No good. He tries to type "today will be a good day," but he can't make himself do that either. So he stabs the backspace key and starts over.

 _Dear Evan Hansen,_

 _Turns out I was wrong. Today isn't going to be a good day, or a good week, or even a good year, because why would it be?_

That feels better, or at least more honest. This isn't exactly what he was supposed to do with these letters, but he doesn't want to write some peppy confident bullcrap, because it wouldn't be true and he doesn't think it would help.

 _Oh, I know, I know, because there's Zoe, and all my hope is pinned on Zoe, who I don't even know and who doesn't know me, but… Maybe if I did, maybe I could just talk to her, then maybe… Maybe nothing would be different at all. I wish everything was different. I wish I was part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. I mean, face it, would anyone notice if I just disappeared tomorrow?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Your best and most dearest friend, me._

Evan sighs and hits print. What a disaster. Why he's even printing it he doesn't know – he's supposed to try to be honest with his therapist, but he doesn't really want to be this honest? He has the letter though, anyway, in case he changes his mind or can't come up with anything else.

"So," someone says, and Evan turns around and it's Connor. He freezes, which is weird and kind of rude but he's sure Connor's going to beat him up for laughing at him earlier or yell at him or- or oh hell, read his letter. Connor is holding his letter. Oh shit. Oh no. It talks about Zoe. Connor really will kill him if he sees what's in it. Evan realizes that Connor is still talking.

"Um, what happened to your arm?" Connor sounds awkward, and he points like Evan doesn't know what he's talking about. He looks angry, but he doesn't _sound_ angry, so Evan stammers out an answer.

"I, um, I fell out a tree, actually," he says, fiddling with his cast. "I fell out of a tree." It's a dumb story, sounds dumber every time he hears himself say it.

Connor evidently agrees. "That is just the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard, oh my god," he says, laughing shortly on the last phrase like he's trying not to sound mean. Which he doesn't actually – not like Jared.

"I know." Evan looks away. He kind of wants to leave because he doesn't know how to talk to Connor Murphy and Connor does scare him a little – he's intense, and swears a lot, and he's still holding Evan's letter.

Connor takes a half step forward, pointing again. "Um, no one's, uh, signed your cast."

Evan flinches. Yeah, it's embarrassingly obvious. "No, I know."

"Well, I'll sign it." Connor says it really fast, leaning forward a little, like he actually wants Evan to say yes.

Evan thinks this is some kind of cruel trick. Connor's gonna write or draw something awful on his cast and shove him again and then read the letter and kill him and Evan says "Oh, you, you don't have to-"

Connor shrugs, shakes his head, gestures again. He gestures a lot. "Do you, uh, do you have a Sharpie?" He doesn't look as angry now, just brusque and uncomfortable. He doesn't know how to do this, Evan realizes. That doesn't make it any less weird, but it does make him feel a little better.

Evan digs in his pocket and pulls out his Sharpie, which is weirdly warm from being in his pocket, and edges towards Connor holding out the Sharpie stiffly like he expects Connor to bite him. He kind of does, actually. He almost doesn't want Connor to take the marker because it's definitely gross and do people normally carry Sharpies in their pockets and really he doesn't know if he wants to tell his mom that the only person to sign his cast is a drug addict and universally disliked by the whole school. Not that Connor is all bad, maybe, but his mom would worry.

Connor takes the Sharpie and, with a swift, determined movement, grabs his arm and pulls it towards him. Evan doesn't quite manage to silence a yelp of pain and Connor looks up. "Oh." He's gentler when he applies the marker to the cast, although Evan winces almost as much to see the giant letters Connor uses to spell his name.

"Oh, great, thanks!" he tries lamely. Although he's never felt the same way about Connor as the rest of the school seems to, he doesn't exactly want there to be one more reason for everyone to whisper as he goes by. He doesn't see how Connor is looking down as he messes with the sleeves of his hoodie, like he doesn't know what to do now.

"Yeah, well, now we can both pretend we have friends," Connor says with what Evan almost thinks is a wry, sympathetic expression. He looks about to say something, but then doesn't.

"Good- good point." Evan doesn't know what to do with this weird situation anymore and it's starting to freak him out that Connor _hasn't_ done anything terrible (how screwed up is that) so he starts walking away, still staring at his cast. So he startles when Connor talks again, for a second almost too loud.

"Is this yours?" Evan whips around – Connor's gesturing at his letter. He'd almost forgotten. "Um, I found it on the printer, it's, it's a-" As he says it he glances down and points at it. "'Dear Evan Hansen,' that's your name, right?" and holds it out and actually smiles. It's an awkward smile like he's trying too hard, but it's a smile. It humanizes him.

"Oh yeah no, no, no, that's just a stupid- it's just this paper that-" Evan sees Connor's eyes lock onto the paper and in a horrible second he yanks the page back towards him, away from Evan, to read it. "-I have to write, so it's, it's for an assignment."

Connor isn't looking at him. Connor is reading his letter. " _'Because there's Zoe'_?" he says slowly. His voice doesn't change much, but that dangerous sound is back like a cat's claw coming out of its sheath. Then he looks at Evan and gestures with the page like he doesn't care, but he's angling closer and there's kind of a lost sound in the danger, too. "Uh, is this about my sister?"

"No, no!" Evan lunges for the paper but Connor pulls it out of reach with a smooth, almost lazy movement.

"No, you wrote this because you knew that I would find it." Connor's turned all the way towards him now, body still and tense, clutching his messenger bag, head down, paper held up high. Evan can see him coming to conclusions and that leads him to some conclusions of his own – Connor's going to lose it and attack him, which would honestly be fair but Evan needs to explain he wasn't being creepy, he needs his letter back, he needs Connor (the only person to sign his cast, alone like him, if scary) to know he didn't mean any harm.

All that comes out of his mouth, however, is "What?"

Connor is shifting from foot to foot, and he looks at the letter again. It sounds like he's fighting his way through something heavy. Like he's struggling. Evan is too, mostly because he kind of can't breathe. There's a roaring in his ears. "Yeah, you, uh… You saw that I was the only other person in the computer lab, so you wrote this and you printed this out" –as he talks, he sounds angrier and surer with every word- "so that I would find it." He's laughing a bit now too, bitter and unamused. He bites off the ends of his words.

Evan starts to ask, "Why would I-?"

Connor leans forward, still laughing, but it isn't a good laugh. It isn't even razor-calm like he'd been with Jared. "So I would read some creepy shit you wrote about my sister and freak out, right?! And now you can tell everybody that I'm crazy!" He does look a little crazy, standing there, yelling, angry, but Evan thinks – in between abject terror and deep humiliation – he also looks lost and bitter.

"What?" That's all he can say.

"Right? Fuck you!" And Connor's running at him and Evan panics but Connor just runs past as he tries desperately to explain and then get his letter back because he can't let Connor just take that, he needs it for therapy, how could something go so _wrong so fast_?

And Connor's gone with his letter and he's alone with only the giant letters on his cast. Isn't that just typical? It's all he can do not to break down right there. Instead, numb, hardly thinking, he sits back down and writes a new letter. Something generic.

 _Dear Evan Hansen,_

 _Today's going to be a good day because you talked to Zoe and she wasn't mean. Also you had a good lunch._

That's all he can come up with.

He spends the rest of the day terrified he'll see Connor again, or Zoe (because what if Connor told her what he did and she hates him and thinks he's creepy and then she doesn't talk to him again and his last chance is gone because he's accidentally made her the focus of all his hopes). But he doesn't – that is, until right before he leaves, as he's one his way to the theater door that gets him outside closest to his car. He's so focused on the ground that he doesn't really register the scuffed pair of black combat boots until someone grips his shoulder and halts his progress. "Watch it, Hansen."

Evan looks up, speaks, and moves all at once. "C-Connor! Sorry, I didn't- I'm not- I-" He realizes too late that he's still blocking Connor from going through the doorway.

"What's your problem?" Connor snarls. "Haven't had enough fun with me today, wanna see if you can get me to really lose it?"

Evan shakes his head frantically. "No. No, I didn't, um, I wasn't- I wasn't trying to make you, uh, lose it in the first place."

Connor stares at him like he's something disgusting. "You're hilarious," he says, and he still sounds dangerous. Evan should move. He should get out of the way and let Connor leave. But something in him wants Connor to understand because for just a minute, it seemed like he might know how Evan felt.

That was probably just his imagination.

"I wasn't- didn't laugh at you," Evan blurts, looking down at his hands, which have twisted together despite the way it makes his arm twinge a little.

There's silence from Connor, and he isn't moving. Evan fills the silence with a torrent of words. "I mean, I did laugh, but not at you, I was trying to laugh at, at Jared but I just- I laugh when I'm nervous and you're scary, so I- I mean, shit, I don't mean it like that I mean like, you have- you always- you just get angry and then- but I mean you aren't a psychopath? Or a school shooter? I don't think. I mean-"

"Holy shit, Hansen," Connor growls, and Evan looks up. The other boy definitely isn't smiling, but he's looking less angry. "Stop talking, you're making me nauseous."

Evan doesn't know how to respond to that.

"You're a creep," Connor says shortly. "Stay away from my sister." Then he pulls a creased piece of folded paper out of his jean pocket and holds it out. "You need that, right?"

Evan nods. "Yeah, I... Yeah. Thanks."

Connor looks at him for a second, then scowls and gestures impatiently. "Are you gonna get out of my way or do I need to shove you again?"

"Oh." Evan darts out of the doorway and watches Connor's lanky figure disappear down the hall. He's not sure what just happened, but he thinks maybe Connor doesn't hate him anymore.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Hey y'all! This is my first ever DEH fanfic. If it keeps going, it's going to switch between Connor and Evan's POVs every other chapter.**

 **This is my first time trying to write anxiety or drug addiction, so if you would be gentle with me and give me advice, that would be good.**

 **This will not be an Evan/Connor fic - my personal headcanon is that Connor is ace, actually - the only pairing I'm going to do is Zoe/Evan because they're adorable.**

 **Also, I don't like swearing and can't stand the F word, which is a problem since Connor swears a lot in canon. You're just going to have to add in your own swear words in your head if he isn't swearing enough for you.**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2: Every Sun Doesn't Rise

Chapter 2: Every Sun Doesn't Rise

Connor goes to the orchard after school, wandering far into the rows of overgrown trees until he doesn't even know where he is anymore, and sits down with his back to a tree whose bark digs into the small of his back.

There's an old bridge a few blocks away from the orchard, a big, rough, wooden structure over a ravine that he and Zoe used to play on, even though Cynthia insisted it wasn't safe. Larry always let them, though. He'd seemed proud of the way they clambered on the rails, ducking under them, hanging from them, never falling.

Connor had planned to go there today, but now he thinks he'll just go home.

The first day of school had been predictably shitty. It wasn't like people hadn't been afraid of him before, but between having grown his hair out and gained a few more inches of height, there was a new urgency to the whispering. There was a reason Jared had said his hair was "school shooter chic" and that kid Hansen had looked so terrified of him and one freshman had actually shrieked when he brushed past her in the cafeteria.

When he'd thought Hansen was mocking him too, it had been too much. After actually putting himself out there and trying to seem sorry (because he was, but he'd been good at apologies, even as a little boy), the guy that everyone whispered about as _stammering, nervous, weird, tree-fetish Evan Hansen_ had seemed intent on making him look like a psycho by writing what Connor had taken to be a weird sex letter about Zoe.

Then he'd actually read the letter all the way through, and, although he was still furious, he had to admit that Hansen probably hadn't printed the letter for him to see. That's not like it makes it less creepy that Hansen's pining after his sister, but he does at least get it.

 _Would anyone even notice if I just disappeared tomorrow?_

Connor knows no one would miss him, and he knows why. Because he's not good enough for any of them, his asshat father, his useless mom, his self-righteous sister. He's got half an hour to smoke a joint before he goes home or they'll start calling him. Like they don't already know what he's doing - none of them would be stupid enough to expect him to go his first day of school and the obligatory after-school dinner conversation without some stress relief. They know the drill.

He has a pre-rolled joint stuffed in a baggie in his messenger bag between a worn copy of The Myth of Sisyphus and a token pre-calc textbook. He hates math. It doesn't make any sense. Not like books do. Not like words.

Hell, this is too much thinking. He takes a hit and shimmies around a little so the tree doesn't dig into him as much.

Evan Hansen. He's pretty sure they've been in some classes together, but he skips so often he doesn't know. Maybe this year he'll actually pay attention - Hansen, unlike the rest of the students, doesn't seem to be scared of him. Well, any more scared of him than he is of everything. Which is saying a lot considering he knocked Evan down and then screamed at him and stole his private letter.

He's a colossal screw up. It's almost funny.

The bridge is still a possibility. After the computer lab incident, he'd started planning it. He had in the past, but today before running into Evan on the way out, he'd decided. He was going to smoke his joint in the orchard, go to the bridge, and get the hell out of this mess. Not like he'd be missed. No one would probably even have the decency to feel guilty.

Evan had stopped him. Evan had stood in his way and told him he didn't think Connor was a psychopath. Which shouldn't have been such a relief.

He starts feeling the comfortable looseness spreading through his limbs and lets the thoughts about his day trail off while he puts his headphones in to listen to MCR.

By the time he gets home, he's comfortably stoned enough to deal with dinner. Hopefully. If his mom's made some of that weird quinoa crap again though, he's leaving and going to McDonalds.

They didn't even wait for him. They're eating spaghetti and meatballs, and Zoe looks typically pissed and Larry's glaring at him and his mom just looks tired. He's sick of the way they judge him.

"Where were you?" Larry asks shortly.

"Getting high off my ass and thinking about death," Connor snaps, dropping into his chair and grabbing for the bowl of spaghetti. Much to his frustration, Larry pulls it away from him with a scowl.

"Don't talk to me like that."

"Larry, maybe-" his mom says, and Connor settles for the basket of garlic bread, dumping three pieces onto his plate.

"Is Evan okay?" Zoe asks him, and her voice is all venom and disgust.

Connor frowns. "Evan?" Why the hell is Zoe asking him about Evan, it isn't like they're friends.

She glares at him. "Yeah, Evan Hansen, the kid with the broken arm that you shoved this morning."

Well shit. Of course she saw that.

"Connor!" Cynthia looks horrified. Why she's even surprised anymore, Connor doesn't know. "Was he okay?"

"Yeah." He shrugs and eyes the bowl of spaghetti narrowly. Larry sighs and plunks it back down in front of him, so Connor scoops a giant mound onto his plate.

"Sure he was." Zoe's mocking him, and this is why he needed a hit before coming home, because they all obviously hate him and if he wasn't so high he'd definitely be throwing something, screaming. He wants to anyway.

Instead, he glares down at his plate and takes a huge bite of bread so he can't talk. His mom still sounds upset when she speaks up again.

"Honey, you could've really hurt him." Connor chews harder, determined not to respond, to focus on the comfortable calm that's still fogging his brain. He's not an idiot, he knows shoving someone with a broken arm onto the floor could hurt them. At the time, he'd _wanted_ to hurt someone. But he's not going to say that. "Did he say something to you?"

Connor considers saying no, but if he does, then they'll think he's more violent than they already do and maybe talk to the school and make him apologize to Hansen. So he slowly chews and swallows, taking just long enough for Larry to start looking irritated, and says, "No. His friend did, though, and Hansen laughed."

Zoe frowns, looking suspicious, but Cynthia immediately looks appeased. Sometimes it makes Connor angry how easily she lets things go. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. But you still shouldn't have pushed him."

Connor shrugs and goes back to eating. "Sure. Whatever. I know."

Apparently no one knows what to do with this response, because it's followed by silence. He focuses on the food, which is way more delicious that plain old spaghetti and meatballs has a right to be. He decides not to mention that. It's probably just the drugs anyway.

"So how was your first day of school?" Larry asks Zoe. There's a surprisingly long pause before Zoe answers.

"Fine." She sounds almost as evasive as Connor himself usually does, and he looks up in time to see her fidget with her spoon before taking a bite of her spaghetti. For once, it's her turn to be interrogated, and Connor enjoys it far too much.

His mom leans forward, looking concerned. "Meet anyone new?" she asks.

Zoe shrugs, and the uncertainty on her face smooths into carelessness. "No. Hung out with my old friends."

Connor knows that even Zoe doesn't have many friends, but normally she's not this touchy about the topic. Not that he cares. He looks down again and tunes out the conversation, until he hears, "I did talk to Evan Hansen. After Connor, you know, knocked him on the floor."

Connor looks up, mouth forming around a curse, but then he refocuses on the first thing. His sister talking to Evan Hansen. Who definitely has a slightly creepy crush on her. While he's sure _that_ was hilarious, he's also feeling suspicious again and he really doesn't want Hansen getting in the habit of talking to his sister. What if they talked about him? Hell, they probably did.

"Is he nice?" his mom asks.

"Yeah. He's a little weird," Zoe says, smiling. "But not in a bad way."

Connor accidentally feels himself nodding and snaps his head back down as three startled pairs of eyes turn on him. "I'm going to my room," he says, and, carrying his plate, vacates his chair and flees to his bedroom before they can say anything.

But it's true, what Zoe said. Evan is weird. He's fidgety and talks funny and can't seem to meet people's eyes, but he doesn't seem to want to hurt anyone and he's even more awkward than Connor. Which is saying a lot, since Connor hasn't had a normal conversation since elementary school.

Hell, if he thought there was any chance Hansen would ever speak to him again, Connor would try to get to know him better. Since everyone _else_ thinks he's going to shoot up the school one of these days.

He'd thought about doing it once, last year, when a senior had cornered him in the hall and mocked him, asked him how many guns he'd bought with his daddy's money and who he was going to kill today. For a minute, Connor had imagined what a wonderfully ironic ending it would be, to actually kill all these kids that called him a psychopath rich kid and then himself. But that had made him feel sick and scared and he'd run from that confrontation. He couldn't kill anyone, not even if he could get hold of weapons. He wasn't like that. Whether he'd kill himself, though, was generally a little more up in the air.

Right now, that thought's funny in a harsh sort of way. If his parents knew how close he'd come to actually ending it today, they'd- well. They would just fight again. Larry would say Connor only wanted more attention and drugs, his mom would want to send him to the fanciest therapist possible, and Zoe would just hate him more.

Connor finishes his food, flops back on his bed, and pulls the blankets over himself, curling up in them like a small child. It's easier to sleep than to deal with his increasingly lost thoughts.

He oversleeps the next morning and wakes up feeling mildly sick, but he's not going to say so since last time he stayed home sick Cynthia fussed over him all day and gave him meatless chicken noodle soup and acted like a mom is supposed to except it was all wrong. So he gets dressed, packs his unfinished homework (which is all stupid anyway, first day homework is never worth anything) and trails Zoe out the door. He can't wait to get his car back, because the hostile environment in her car is suffocating. Yesterday it wasn't as bad since he was, in fact, high, but today he feels like he could drown in the silence.

It isn't like Zoe doesn't have a right to hate him - she does. But it's still exhausting. Even painful.

"Leave Evan alone," she tells him, when they get to the school. She sounds strangely protective. "If you mess with him again I'm going to tell Mom and Dad about this summer."

Connor feels betrayed, which is strange since he knows she's been intentionally holding that little secret over his head. "Yeah, whatever, Zoe. Screw you."

She holds his gaze, glaring. "I mean it, Connor."

He forces himself to agree, since he doesn't plan on bothering Evan again anyway. "Yeah, I know. Get over it."

Zoe doesn't look convinced, so he slides out of her car before she can say anything else.

Homeroom is useless, leaving plenty of fuzzy space in his brain for the thoughts to trickle in, the pointlessly painful mutterings about what a waste of space this is, he is, how this is all there will ever be for him and he might as well give up now because this is just his life and why would it get better?

Second period is pre-calc, as if the universe is deliberately shitting on him. He drops into a chair in the back, stashes his messenger bag between his feet, lays his arms and chin on the desk, and fixes an angry glare on his face so they won't talk to him. They still whisper, but at least now no one's going to mess with him.

He's so zoned out by the time everyone's seated that he doesn't really notice Evan making his way to the back too and sitting in the desk next to his. Connor deliberately ignores him and also ignores the teacher, leaving his notebook closed and his textbook in his bag.

He can hear paper shuffling at Evan's desk, though. That doesn't surprise him much.

He reluctantly focuses on the whiteboard, where his teacher is reviewing some of the principles from Geometry and Algebra 2 since he knows they've all forgotten everything they learned, except that girl Alana who's nodding smugly like fricking Hermione Granger. She's not all bad, really; he did a chemistry lab with her once. But she only cares about herself - and she babbles even more than Hansen. It's exhausting.

He glances over at Evan at the thought. He looks tired, but he's writing everything down frantically, curled over the paper like he's afraid someone else will see it. Connor sighs and looks down at his notebook. Really not worth the effort. But he knows he's supposed to want to graduate high school, plus when his grades dip below average his parents take away his car or his phone or once, his books. So he writes down the first three rules on the board. They still make no sense to him. Whatever.

There really isn't a point. He's just putting off the inevitable.

He has no other classes with Evan before lunch, and it's strange how much of a difference it makes having even one person in his class who doesn't whisper about him or treat him like he's got leprosy.

So when he sees Evan looking blankly around the cafeteria at lunch, he goes over to talk to him before he even thinks it through.

"Hansen."

Evan jerks around, startled, then looks down and winces like he knows how funny he looked. He starts fiddling with the hem of his polo shirt. "Hey, Connor."

Connor shuffles a little, realizing he didn't have anything planned to say. "Where are you sitting?"

Evan blinks. "I- Um, sometimes I sit with Jared, um, when he- when I- when he's not sitting with someone, um, someone else. Not that he's like, mean about it, but um- he- like-"

Connor sighs. "Yeah, yeah, I get it." He gestures with his tray. "You wanna sit with, uh, me?"

Hansen looks shocked, and he looks around as if he can find an answer somewhere else. He's going to say no because even he has standards, probably. Connor doesn't know why he asked. He tries to say so, but Evan stumbles out an answer. "No no no, I want to. I just, um... I just. Nevermind."

Connor snorts and takes off toward the table he indicated before he can second-guess himself. This should be fun.

* * *

 **A/N: So this is my first attempt at writing a character who's high. I don't know if it's accurate at all.**

 **How'd Connor's first chapter go? Suggestions? Questions? Thoughts?**

 **For him I'll most likely be focusing more on his depression than his drug addiction because depression is something I feel able to write about well.**


	3. Chapter 3: We Just Talk

Chapter 3: We Just Talk

Evan follows Connor in a kind of daze, the plastic bag containing his lunch clutched tight in one fist. He doesn't really know why Connor wants to eat with him, but it can't be anything good. Although he tries to tell himself not to listen to his panicking brain, he can't gain any comfort from Connor's manner. He looked kind of annoyed, but Evan can't think why. He hasn't even seen Zoe today, and he hasn't spoken to Connor. Was he _supposed_ to talk to him? Maybe Connor is angry that he sat next to him in pre-calc but didn't say anything.

They sit down at an open stretch of table, and Evan focuses on opening his lunch in as unobtrusive a way as possible. He cringes a little as he pulls out the bag of chips and the lunchmeat sandwich – this is such a little kid lunch. Connor doesn't seem to notice, however, because he's deeply absorbed in picking green olives off his pizza. Evan looks down and starts eating, but only two bites in Connor speaks up. "So do you like math?"

Evan is hyper-aware of the sound of his own chewing as he tries to eat fast without looking gross or choking. When he does finally swallow and answer, he doesn't even have much to say. "No. I mean, it's- um, the- No. I don't." He stops and sighs slightly.

Connor nods. "Me neither. Hate it. It makes no sense."

They have something in common, but all Evan can say in response is, "Yeah." They lapse back into silence, and Evan awkwardly goes back to eating.

"You know what I do like, though," Connor blurts, picking at his fingernails. Evan almost does choke this time. "English."

Evan grins, despite himself. "Me too. Makes, um, makes so much more sense."

"Right?" Connor leans forward eagerly, his eyes taking on an excited gleam that Evan never would have expected from him. "What do you like to read?"

Evan isn't sure how to explain his interests – they vary a lot, so he just names a few. "I like, uh, The Little Prince. And Hunger Games. And uh, actually… I kind of like historical fiction. I'm such a nerd, right?"

Connor shrugs. "Yeah, but I like philosophy books and Harry Potter, so…"

"Harry Potter is good." Once again they fall silent, mostly because Evan is afraid to show too much enthusiasm about the topic. There's liking books, and then there's knowing which House you are and what your Patronus is (via Pottermore) and having written a couple fanfics about it.

Connor sighs after a moment and starts eating his pizza, so Evan eats too. It's somehow both intensely awkward and comfortable. It helps that Connor doesn't seem much better at making small talk than he is. Unless he's just so bad at this that Connor can't think of anything to say and he's killed this conversation just like he always does. So he resorts to the polite, useless questions that adults ask when they first meet him.

"Did you have a good summer?"

Connor rolls his eyes. "It was utter shit."

"Same," Evan laughs, nervously. It's true.

Connor gives him a funny look, then nods. He takes a bite of pizza and says around it, "Just didn't have much going on. My friends were all gone."

There's something wry and humorless about the way he says friends, and without thinking Evan says, "I didn't think you had any. Friends, I mean."

He sees the flash of hurt and anger in Connor's eyes, and he rushes to repair the mistake. "No no no, I didn't mean that, I- I just meant- Um, shit, look, you didn't seem good at talking either, and- Well, no one at school- No, I, I, um- Hell, I'm stupid, I'm sorry, I just mean I- um…" He trails off in a whirl of horror, his heart thudding against his ribs, feeling a little sick, especially at the way that Connor still looks shut down and angry.

"No, it's fine, Hansen," he says, too evenly. "It must be hard to believe that other people can have friends, since you don't."

Evan shrinks back. This was a mistake. He should have sat with Jared, because at least he knows that insults are par for the course with Jared. This kind of thing is far worse. He should have known that just because Connor wasn't popular here didn't mean he doesn't have friends. It's just Evan who has lame problems like that. He looks down and fiddles with his cast. It jogs his memory, reminds him of Connor saying they could both pretend they had friends. He doesn't say that to Connor, but it does make him feel better. He's not completely stupid, there's a reason he thought what he did. "Right," he mumbles. "Sorry."

There's silence for a while, and Evan focuses on his food and on the sounds from the rest of the cafeteria. Then he hears a deep sigh and Connor says something.

"Alright, that was an asshole thing to say. I don't have friends so I don't know why I said that."

"Well, I shouldn't have said you didn't," Evan stammers. "It was, um, it was stupid."

Connor shrugs at him, smirking again. "Well, you're kind of an idiot anyway." He pauses, then grimaces. "That was also an asshole thing to say."

Evan can't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, it, um, it was," he says, smiling tentatively. That coaxes another awkward smile from Connor, and Evan notices that he has dimples. That's so incongruous, Connor Murphy having dimples, that Evan laughs again and quickly covers his mouth.

"You're weird," Connor decides, smile fading a little, but he doesn't look like he means it in a bad way.

"I know," Evan agrees. He's definitely weird. Honestly, that's probably the nicest word used to describe him in recent memory. Counting Connor calling him a freak yesterday.

Unfortunately, silence falls over them once again, and Evan gives up on eating or talking. He'll just sit here awkwardly and die. That's probably the best he can hope for at this point.

It's fifteen minutes of Evan fidgeting and Connor nibbling his pizza before something else happens to instigate conversation. Connor seems to notice first, and with a frustrated little sound nods his head towards the other end of the table. Evan looks and sees one of the boys on the basketball team headed their way. Behind him, a small cluster of his friends watch with obvious fascination. Evan quickly looks away, stomach turning, heart pounding into overdrive. Connor's face has hardened into a solid mask of disinterest. Evan wishes he knew how to do that, but he probably looks as sick and terrified as he feels.

The basketball player, whose name Evan doesn't remember, sits down next to him and jostles him with his shoulder. Evan tenses up, shooting a terrified glance at Connor for support and receiving none. "D-doing al-alright, little E-Evan?"

Evan winces and leans away. He does stammer a lot, he knows - it's stupid but he never seems to say the right thing on first try. "Yeah, fine," he says, fighting to keep his voice steady.

Across from him, Connor's face is set in stone, but Evan sees his hands clenched tightly around the edges of his tray.

"Are you gonna freak out?" the boy says to him, grinning. Evan looks down and just breathes because he feels like he _is_ going to "freak out" because he feels trapped and scared and humiliated and stupid. "You gonna freeze up like you did last year? You looked like a goddamn pufferfish, it was hilarious. Come on, do it again, it would be funny."

That's right, this guy was in Evan's U.S. Government class last year. His name's Lee Michaels. Evan had had a panic attack when he was supposed to be presenting on parliamentary governments.

His lack of response apparently isn't interesting enough, so Lee turns to Connor, who's looking genuinely murderous.

"Oh look at you, feeling all defensive of your little boyfriend, huh? What's the matter, he dating you for the protection, or is he pathetic enough to actually wanna be around you?"

Evan, through a bit of a haze, recognizes that Lee has pushed Connor just a little too far. "He's at least smart enough to avoid assholes like you," Connor says, dead calm. That scares Evan almost more than Lee's mocking. There's a kind of icy calm that he's felt himself, the kind where everything is quiet only because it's about to explode. This is like that.

"Is that all you can come up with?" Lee snorts, rolling his eyes and leaning towards Evan to knock shoulders with him again. "You're both pathetic. You're actually a good couple, now that I think about it. Lame as hell and absolutely batshit crazy."

Connor's on his feet before Evan's able to register the insult, eyes blazing. Lee jumps up too, and Evan realizes that Connor is almost as tall as him. Lee is trying to look unconcerned, but Connor looks terrifying like they all expect him to, like he's going to lose it. "If you don't get out of here now, Michaels, you'll find out just how crazy I am. Get the hell away from us."

For a moment, Lee seems to weigh his options, and Evan can see he wants to say something else. Thankfully, Lee retreats back to his group of friends with a weird little laugh and a rude gesture. Connor growls out a heartfelt curse, rips his tray off the table, and takes off across the cafeteria. Evan only hesitates a moment before following, acutely aware of the stares from Lee's table, even more aware of the fact that he's still wobbling on the edge of panic.

Connor's long legs quickly let him outstrip Evan, who's never been much of a runner anyway. Still, he manages to keep him in sight all the way out to the parking lot, where Connor slows to a standstill by the dumpster and starts pacing, running his hand through his hair, swearing vehemently. Evan comes to a stop a few feet from him, panting, and waits out the storm in labored silence. Connor's not exactly helping him with how angry he seems, especially since Evan knows it's largely his fault that Lee bothered them in the first place. They never should have sat together.

Connor finally calms down and shoves his hair out of his face, looking over at Evan with an indecipherable expression. "You don't look so good."

"You don't either," Evan says tentatively. It's true. Connor's eyes are red and he still looks furious.

"There's a reason for that." Connor sighs. "I should've known that would happen, making you sit with me. Nobody could resist that."

Evan shrugged awkwardly.

"You're not pathetic," Connor adds.

"Well, you're not crazy."

Connor laughs a little, shaking his head bitterly. "At least as long as they think I am they won't mess with me too much."

Something about that makes Evan feel uncomfortable, but he isn't sure why. He wishes he could just leave and not come back. "Right," he says, uncertainly. If this is what Connor calls "not messing with him," Evan isn't sure he likes his definition.

Connor sighs. "I want a smoke," he says harshly, looking away. "Can't deal with this damn place sober."

Evan frowns and fidgets. He's still thinking about the last thing Connor said. "Do you want them, um- Don't you want them to, uh, _not_ think you're crazy?"

Connor snorts. "If they're afraid of me, they leave me alone."

Evan kind of thinks that's a terrible way to live, but he doesn't know how to articulate that. "Well... I mean... Um, shouldn't there be a different- Does it have to be one or the other?" He's afraid that it does, that it's the same for him, but he's hanging onto the hope that there's another option. Connor looks about to respond scathingly, but Evan blurts out one other thing. "I mean, I'm not scared of you and I'm not messing with you."

Connor stops, looks at him, frowns. "I keep yelling at you and pushing you around, Hansen," he says.

"Well, not today," Evan argues.

"I literally insulted you and said you had no friends," Connor says, a wry smile starting to play around his lips.

"I said the same thing to you."

Evan's startled when Connor actually laughs. "You're actually not bad," he says matter-of-factly. "I don't know why you don't have friends."

"Well," Evan shrugs "Nobody else thinks I'm cool. Oh gosh, that was pathetic. I'm sorry, that was really needy and stupid, I don't know why I said that to you, but you don't have to be sorry for me I'm absolutely fine and actually Jared is a decent friend, so... So yeah."

"Jared. The one who said I had school shooter hair who only sits with you when he's not sitting with anyone else. That Jared," Connor drawls. He shakes his head, and Evan feels himself turning red. "And I told you, you aren't pathetic. Jared is, though."

Evan feels a little defensive on Jared's behalf, but he can tell Connor doesn't want to hear it, so he just nods.

"I'm leaving," Connor says after a minute.

"But there's still class left."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not staying for that bullshit."

Evan wishes he could blow off class too, but he needs good grades or he won't be able to go to college. He almost wishes Connor wasn't going - Connor's presence is strangely reassuring, although he does seem to be angry most of the time.

"Okay. I should, um... I should go in." Evan points back at the school. "See you tomorrow?"

Before he can even kick himself for how stupid that sounds, Connor smiles and says, "Sure, Hansen. See you."

* * *

 **A/N: So dialogue-heavy chapters are hard. Also writing insults without swearing a lot is hard because I'm not a very insulting person generally and also I'm terrible at snappy comebacks. So yeah. At least tell me you were a little mad at Lee? Idk. Anyway ;)**

 **We got us some "acquaintances" now. Alana would be proud.**

 **I should also note that while I like Jared, I also strongly dislike him at the start of the play because when your only friend is an insulting person it does things to your head and it's not fun. However, he gets an arc like everyone else because he grew on me. Btw, can someone explain the whole "eating bath bombs" thing to me?**


	4. Chapter 4: Each Day's Another Fight

Chapter 4: Each Day's Another Fight

Connor walks all the way to the library. It's a twenty minute walk, which is good because it tires him out and lets him leave his desire to punch something back on the sidewalk, to be replaced by a bone-deep weariness. He counts his footsteps and pays attention to the sound of his breathing, because if he doesn't the buzz of hateful thoughts will overtake him and he doesn't want that to happen today. That just wouldn't be fair.

He'd actually eaten lunch with someone. He'd made them laugh, and not in a bad way. He'd talked about books and having a bad summer and- it wasn't anything special, but it was so much better than anything had been for a long time.

It feels far too good to be true, but logically he knows that this is actually one thing that's going well for him. Unless he torpedoes it, like he does with everything else he cares about, he has a shot at actually having a real friend again. At having something to look forward to when he gets up in the morning besides the drugs.

He clings to that thought because it makes him feel something other than loneliness and anger and an itch for a fix. It's been a really long time since he's had something good to think about.

The library is big and musty and sometimes you find people sleeping amongst the less frequented bookshelves, as if they'll never wake up again. To Connor, the library is a safe place, one of the few that calms him as surely as a joint, that makes him feel safe and in control of himself. The books, with their entrancing stories or high-flown trails of logic, take him out of himself better than anything else does. Unfortunately, that also means that going home to his own reality hurts. But for now, the smell of old books and the hushed voices around him quiet the distant buzzing in his head, and he goes looking for something new to read. Maybe he'll try some historical fiction. Or _The Little Prince_ – which sounds cheesy but when he looks it up on the library computer ends up looking alright. He ends up checking out that book, _The Book Thief_ , a philosophy book about relative morality, and a biography that's apparently pretty popular, _Unbroken_. If Evan's never read these, at least Connor has some recommendations for him.

On the way out of the library, he waves at his favorite librarian, who is a younger woman who likes to recommend books for him and talk about them after he reads them. She winks at him. She's part of the reason the library feels so safe.

He curls up in a back corner with his back to a bookshelf full of ESL books and opens _The Little Prince_ to the first page, on which is a curious image of a snake constricting what looks like a frightened wombat.

 _"Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called_ True Stories from Nature _, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing._

 _In the book it said: 'Boa constrictors swallow their prey whole, without chewing it. After that they are not able to move, and they sleep through the six months that they need for digestion.'_

 _I pondered deeply, then, over the adventures of the jungle. And after some work with a colored pencil I succeeded in making my first drawing. My Drawing Number One. It looked like this:_

And the book showed a picture of something rather like a brown blanket covering a large animal, which made Connor chuckle.

 _I showed my masterpiece to the grown-ups, and asked them whether the drawing frightened them._

 _But they answered: 'Frightened? Why should anyone be frightened by a hat?'_

 _My drawing was not a picture of a hat. It was a picture of a boa constrictor digesting an elephant. But since the grown-ups were not able to understand it, I made another drawing: I drew the inside of the boa constrictor, so that the grown-ups could see it clearly. They always need to have things explained."_

Connor paused. He was seeing already why Evan liked this book. He kept reading, letting himself get lost between the pages and the pictures and the strangely entrancing little prince who didn't belong in this world but enjoyed it so much anyway. It was chock-full of symbolism that Connor didn't quite understand but which still seemed to burrow into his thoughts and make him feel sad.

He was a little over half through the book before his phone buzzed with a text from Zoe.

 **Where the hell are you**

 _Library_

 _I'm walking home_

 **You're going to flunk school**

 _Like you care. Get over it_

 **Don't be late**

He doesn't bother to reply. He's usually late and the response from his family never changes. They all act as if he's greatly inconvenienced them, and then they go about their evening. It's not that big a deal anymore.

At least this time he can honestly tell them he's not high and save himself that particular look of judgement. At least his messenger bag full of books will get him the closest thing to a proud look from his mother that he's gotten in weeks. At least he wasn't skipping class to smoke, they'll think.

There are a lot of things that his family thinks are good that anyone else his age would get yelled at for. If that doesn't show how low their standards are.

But it makes sense, really. He's not like other people. He's a useless rich white boy with an addiction to one of the least addictive drugs there is and a drawerful of razors and a shelf full of books that he's taken good care of but even still have bent pages, broken spines, a few coffee stains on the pages. His family's tired of him and his school hates him and even his English teacher barely puts up with him. No one cares about him, no one even sees him. He's just a joke, the punch line for all the ignorant kids in his school who still think killing is funny.

He realizes where his thoughts are headed, and, in desperation, yanks one of his new books out of his bag to read as he walks. Which is actually more dangerous than it is helpful but he doesn't care so much about that. It's that book _Unbroken_. Connor isn't all that into nonfiction, but it's probably popular for a reason.

 _"In the predawn darkness of August 26, 1929, in the back bedroom of a small house in Torrance, California, a twelve-year-old boy sat up in bed, listening. There was a sound coming from outside, growing ever louder."_

Connor reads, occasionally fumbling over cracks in the sidewalk, lifting his head every now and again to take a turn, to cross a road, until he passes into the luxurious, stifling silence of his own neighborhood.

He can see his neighbor's elderly afghan hound pacing up and down the yard, looking bored and tired. The hound glances at him and snuffs the air, but doesn't stop pacing. Technically, she can fit through the white slats of the fence, but she has an electric collar that has kept her from trying since she was a year old. She likes peppermints, though, and sometimes Connor gives her some when he remembers. Today, however, he just shrugs at her and walks past, stowing his book back into his messenger bag. The neighbors have a very specific opinion of him and he doesn't want to spoil it by reading in front of them – god forbid they have to accept that he can think as well as get high.

His house used to look wonderful to him, when he was younger. Even a few years ago, it was a safe refuge, the big white stones and soft wood door meaning home and people who at least cared about him and knew he was more than a mistake. Home was where his dad still sometimes made attempts to talk to him and his mom cooked actual pizza and Zoe always asked him if he was okay, even though they both knew it was a stupid question.

But now it's just a house full of people who've given up on him.

He walks up the shallow steps of the house and pushes open the door, which swings open slowly and silently, as it always does. There's an extra pair of woman's shoes by the doormat, which means either his mom's been shopping again or she has a friend over. He really hopes it's the former.

Soon enough, however, an outbreak of laughter from the direction of the kitchen tells him otherwise, and he decides to head straight to his room and pretend he's not here. Hopefully no one's staying for dinner – there isn't a person in their acquaintance who doesn't know about how "troubled" he is and how "none of the treatments are working" and how he "just doesn't seem to be trying anymore." His parents still think he can't hear them from the next room over.

His room is a horrible mess, which he doesn't like but also doesn't have the energy to remedy. The only thing that isn't a disaster area is the wall of bookshelves that he and Larry built together when he was eleven. The books on it are organized alphabetically in neat rows by author. It's been that way for a few years now and he's secretly quite proud of it. He takes the books out of his bag and tosses it onto the floor amongst piles of laundry and cords and DVD cases, then settles onto his bed with _The Little Prince_ in his hands and his other finds piled against his hip.

 _"'No,' said the little prince. 'I am looking for friends. What does that mean- 'tame'?'_

 _'It is an act too often neglected,' said the fox. 'It means to establish ties.'_

 _''To establish ties'?'"_

Connor forgets about the voices downstairs and the buzzing in his head and the lonely ache in his bones and reads carefully, trying to understand the author's gentle symbolism. It doesn't make sense sometimes, and he's amused by the very French idea of a boy in love with a rose, but he's intrigued nonetheless.

 _"'What must I do, to tame you?" asked the little prince._

 _'You must be very patient,' replied the fox. 'First you will sit down at a little distance from me - like that - in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day.'"_

Just as Connor finishes this little passage, someone bangs on his door and yanks him back to himself with an unpleasant start. "Dinner, Connor!" It's Zoe. He must have missed the first couple of times Cynthia called him - they don't normally have Zoe come and get him.

"Coming," he mutters, gently closing his book and unfolding his long legs from underneath him. They're asleep, which makes them sting a little when he stands. He thinks he still hears an extra voice downstairs, and that makes his stomach plummet with dismay. He wishes, more than anything, that he could return to his book.

When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, Zoe is waiting for him next to his mom and her oldest friend, Becky. Becky really isn't so bad, but she seems to think his mom is too easy on him and always seems to expect him to start swearing at her at the drop of a hat. Becky is one of those people who've had a lot of problems of their own, though, so she's kinder to him than Cynthia's other friends.

"I hear you skipped class today, Connor," Cynthia says, her voice light and careless, as if she isn't upset.

It doesn't surprise Connor anymore that Zoe ratted on him while company was here - if it came up at dinner, it would be much more embarrassing for his parents. It would sound like they didn't know where their own son was. This way they can still pretend that Connor's school calls them when he's gone and that they actually worry about where he is.

"Yeah. Went to the library." He shrugs. "Hey, Becky."

Becky nods. "Hi, Connor. Enjoy the library?"

That seems like a diplomatic question, not a pointed one, so he nods. "Found some good books."

"Good," his mom says. There it is, that pained, fond look, like she's trying to decide between being disappointed and relieved. Becky shoots her a look like she can't believe that's all there is to it, so Connor ducks around them to go to the dining room. Larry's there in the kitchen, eating chips, still in his work clothes sans tie and shoes.

He and Connor don't speak to each other, although Larry looks about to say something for a second. All their conversations dissolve into fights, though, so they've learned it's better not to talk.

Connor slides into his spot at the table, lays his head on his arms, and he can hear Larry let out a long sigh. He wants to react but they have company and he doesn't want to ruin what little peace his trip to the library afforded him. So he closes his eyes and counts the number of breaths it takes for Becky and Cynthia's easy conversation to enter the dining room behind him. He knows that Zoe's come with them by the heavy way she sits in her own chair and then kicks him in the shin. He sits up and shoots her one of his angrier glares.

He thinks maybe Zoe is afraid of him. That doesn't feel right.

He looks away from her and makes himself smile at Cynthia because there is honest-to-god macaroni and cheese on the table, which has been his favorite since forever, and one of those pies Becky brings from the place she works. Connor sometimes thinks that looking forward to those pies is fifty percent of his will to live, because they're actually heavenly. If he's lucky, there'll be a piece left over to take to school for lunch.

Maybe Evan would like some.

It's weird having someone to tell about these things. It's weird thinking that there's someone who he can talk to about _The Little Prince_ , someone he can suggest books to and get suggestions from, someone who doesn't think he's crazy. It's weird thinking that when he goes to the cafeteria tomorrow for lunch, he might not have to sit alone.

He shakes his head slightly.

They're passing the mac'n'cheese around, and he takes a few heaping spoonfuls and doesn't miss how that makes his mom's eyes light up. A thank you sticks in his throat and he looks down as he passes the dish on to his sister. He doesn't want to be here. That feeling makes him feel sick and trapped, and he quickly starts eating to distract himself.

Becky starts talking about her job, regaling them with the latest news. Connor loves the pie shop, so he listens attentively, but he doesn't go there often himself. The employees are all happy and kind and they seem to genuinely like him, but he feels like his very presence is a disappointment to them, like he betrays them by coming in when he's high. So he just doesn't go.

"Yesterday Lulu invented her first pie. It sounded disgusting but Jenna told her it was a great idea. They're both crazy." Becky says this fondly between bites of mac'n'cheese.

"I don't know," Larry says. "Jenna makes great pies for a crazy person."

That's a sentiment Connor can get behind. Tonight's pie looks like one of her chocolate concoctions, creamy and swirled with a graham cracker crust. So he lets himself enjoy the meal, lets himself listen to the conversation without speaking or getting angry, lets himself take his second piece of pie and reluctantly save it for tomorrow because the idea of sharing it, of sharing anything, is intoxicating and heady. It's going to be hell coming down, but for now he thinks he doesn't mind the idea of being tamed.

 _"'Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow._ _And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the colour of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you.'"'_

* * *

 **A/N:** **I refuse to apologize for my gratuitous, unnecessary, and stupidly symbolic book references. The end of this chapter is lowkey sappy but I don't caaare. I'm going to put so many book references in here, okay? Because the way The Little Prince describes friendship as this lovely thing is super important to me and also the way the story goes just... read it. Do it.**

 **Can you guess who Becky issss?**

 **I should note that I actually like Larry, which says a lot about the musical because normally I'd hate a character like him. Like I don't even feel like toxic masculinity is his problem because he's so understanding of Evan. Anyway, I'm going off my understanding of the character, which is that he just has no idea how to deal with mental illness and crime (because pot is illegal, hey) and anger and stuff because there is no manual and his generation didn't talk about mental illness and how do you balance understanding with discipline, you know? So yeah, I feel like he was just really overwhelmed and scared and ignorant and when people get scared they do stupid and unhealthy things.**

 **I should also note that I have Connor as a fairly violent and angry person because he struck me that way in the musical - there's that line Zoe has about him trying to punch through her door screaming that he was gonna kill her, plus how she called him a monster, so I feel like he definitely had to have been angry a lot. I'm trying to balance it though so we'll see.**


	5. Chapter 5: The Kingdoms Never Weep

Chapter 5: The Kingdoms Never Weep

The rest of the school day isn't nearly as peaceful for Evan as it was for Connor. This is mostly due to the fact that at the start of fifth period, Jared sits down next to him and says, "So. You and Connor."

Evan shouldn't be surprised this particular rumor got spread around, but he is. "What?" he stammers. "I'm not- he's not-"

Jared waggles his eyebrows at him suggestively. "You had the hots for his sister for a while, Hansen. Have you mentioned that to him yet?"

Evan cringes and rubs his face. "We aren't, um, we're not a couple, Jared."

Jared doesn't seem to believe him, or at least he pretends not to purely to spite Evan. "What is it, the crazed look in his eyes? The hint of danger? The new haircut? I kinda dig that myself."

"We aren't dating, Jared!" Evan snaps, immediately regretting it as half the class turns to look and snicker. He looks down and sighs. He wants to say Connor isn't crazy, but he _doesn't_ want Jared to have one more thing to tease him about.

"Okay, fine, you aren't." Jared shrugs. "You should, though, come to think of it."

Evan shakes his head and gets out his things. For the rest of the day, people look at him more, whisper more. He's deathly afraid Zoe will hear about it, but he's not sure anyone will have the courage to talk about it around her. Last year she and Connor got into a screaming match in the hallway, were suspended for their foul language and disruption of class, and now everyone knows not to talk to Zoe Murphy about her brother.

It isn't until the end of the day that he discovers someone _did_ tell her something. He's just closing his locker when she comes up to him with a weird look on her face that's stuck somewhere between angry and concerned. "Evan? Can we talk for a sec?"

Evan absolutely hates when people say "can we talk" with no context. He's really afraid she's angry at him for… something. He's not even sure what. "Um, yeah, sure Zoe, um… why?"

She looks awkward for a moment, then says, "People are whispering around me a lot today and won't tell me what about. Which usually means they're talking about Connor." She laughs bitterly. "I asked someone in study hall and they said to ask you."

Evan winces. He wants to explain, but he remembers her calling Connor a psychopath the day before and doesn't think she would understand. He tries anyway. "Um, we were… Uh, sometimes I have no one to sit with, um, at lunch – which is pathetic, I know, wow – and Connor didn't either, yesterday-"

"He never does," Zoe says.

"Well, okay, yeah, um, so we sat together and, um, talked about books. And stuff. And then Lee Michaels came over and, well, he said that we were both crazy and we were a couple and Connor got mad and we left the cafeteria at the same time, so… I guess now Lee's telling everyone we're dating." Evan looks down, embarrassed. Top of the list of things he doesn't want: Zoe associating him with a rumor that he's dating her brother.

Zoe frowns and looks kind of lost for a second. "So, um… so you aren't though?" And before Evan can do more than shake his head, she asks, in a rush of words, "What books?"

"Huh?" Evan blinks at her and just like that she shakes her head, turns away.

"Forget it. They'll get over it, you know. People always do." She hesitates, then adds, "He's not really… Well, I don't know if you want to spend too much time with him, Evan."

He's not sure how to respond because it's clear she means well and he'd never even expected to talk to her, much less get advice from her, but he doesn't feel like it's advice he can take. Although she definitely knows what she's talking about. She seems to notice his hesitance, because she turns back towards him with a tired sigh. "Just, think about it? He's violent and angry and he's always high, and I just… You're nice. And I don't want him hurting you, okay?"

Evan stares at her, then forces himself to nod, to smile a little. "I get it." He does. Hell, he's thrilled at the fact that she called him nice. But he's still not sure he wants to stop talking to Connor.

"Okay," she says, and she smiles at him. Then she looks down and again her face locks into a strange expression. "He signed your cast."

"Yeah. Yesterday. He came into the computer lab and asked if he could sign it." He leaves out the part where Connor screamed at him for writing about Zoe – that seems kind of irrelevant.

"Oh." She looks confused, then shakes her head and smiles again. "See you later, Evan."

"See you," he answers, and watches her hurry away, head down.

Predictably, his brain spins off into panic mode because Zoe Murphy just talked to him again and everyone thinks he's dating Connor and Connor is his one chance at a friend but Zoe just said he was dangerous and she told him he shouldn't talk to Connor but he doesn't want to do that because Connor says he isn't pathetic and he at least talked to Evan and Evan is so tired of being alone.

So he goes home to his empty house and ignores the money on the counter and curls up on the couch to watch _The Office_ for the thousandth time. He considers sending Connor a Facebook friend request but he's not sure that they've talked enough to keep that from being weird. He decides against it.

He really is pathetic, which Connor would know if he spent any more time with him. He's sitting here in the living room refusing to order pizza (even though he loves pizza) because he can't talk to the deliveryman and he's afraid of looking stupid. And suddenly everything that has happened today crashes over him and his throat closes off and tears build in his eyes and he sits there crying as Jim accuses Dwight of smoking pot. He's so, so tired. He picks at his cast, staring at the huge letters that trail all the way down it and somehow that makes him cry more. Something good finally happens to him and it's ruined by Lee Michaels and a rumor and, somehow, even Zoe.

He opens his laptop and tries to write something, but he can't get anything done and then Facebook informs him that he has a new message.

 **Jared: so whats the real scoop, r u dating?**

 _You: No._

 **Jared: well good, because id be offended if u didn't tell me u were gay**

 _You: I'm not gay._

 _You: And if I was I wouldn't tell you._

Evan wasn't sure that last message was a good idea, but he feels strangely angry at Jared and messaging makes it too easy to say things you shouldn't.

 **Jared: thats low**

 **Jared: is it because id try to date u**

 _You: Sure._

That wasn't why.

 **Jared: aw man, ive lost my chance**

 **Jared: so is zoe heartbroken?**

 _You: No._

He wants to stop talking because he's still crying and still angry and Jared never helps either problem, but he's too polite.

 **Jared: she ships it obviously**

 _You: She said I should stop hanging out with him._

 **Jared: of course you should, dumbass**

 **Jared: connor murphy is bad news ok**

 **Jared: he throws printers. i'm pretty sure there r people buried in his backyard. he smokes like 10 kinds of drugs. u can't hang out with people like that evan, they corrupt u.**

 _You: He doesn't smoke ten kinds of drugs. I'm don't think there even are ten kinds of drugs you smoke._

 **Jared: he's still crazy**

 _You: He's not crazy._

 **Jared: lol okay sure evan. he's not crazy. and i'm not insanely awesome.**

 _You: You're right, you're not._

 **Jared: holy shit, u have a backbone. u sure u aren't dating him?**

 **Jared: cuz ur way defensive**

 _You: I'm not._

Evan closes his laptop and puts it away, feeling drained. Every conversation with Jared leaves him feeling like this, but he doesn't have anyone else. He considers ordering pizza, but it's already past ten and he's sure it's weird to order pizza this late, so he goes to the kitchen and pulls some ramen out of the pantry.

He knows Heidi won't be home till around eleven tonight, and he decides to wait up for her because for once he wants to tell her what happened in school, or at least the good parts. He opens his laptop again and starts a letter to himself for tomorrow.

 _Dear Evan Hansen,_

 _Today is going to be a good day because you have someone to talk to who won't make fun of you (probably) and he likes Harry Potter too. And Zoe cares enough about your existence to give you advice, even if you aren't going to listen to it. I mean so what if the whole school thinks you're dating Connor, at least he's nice and Zoe spoke to you._

He reads over the letter, decides it needs work, and turns _The Office_ back on. The second-hand embarrassment is horrible but it still makes him laugh, and it keeps him busy until he hears his mom pull into the driveway and the car door closing quietly. A moment later the front door unlocks and she pushes it open with a creak.

"Hey Mom," he says.

"Oh hey, honey! Still up?" she drops her purse on the kitchen table and comes over to give him a hug.

"Yeah."

"Something going on?" She worries about him all the time – he can tell. It makes him feel useless, even though he knows it's just what she does.

"Well, kinda." He shrugs. "A good thing, though."

Her face lights up and he can't help but smile back. He knows she's noticed he hasn't used the money she left to buy pizza, but this is more important to them both. "So what was it?" she asks excitedly, sitting next to him and kicking off her shoes. "Did you finally talk to Zoe?"

"Well, yeah, that," he says, surprised at how careless he sounds. "But I wanted to talk about something else."

His mom, however, isn't changing topics just yet. "You talked to Zoe?" she exclaims, nudging him. "That's a big deal, Evan, what'd she say?"

He shrugs awkwardly, letting himself smile a little more. "Well she was kind of upset when we talked, but, um, she said I was nice."

"Oh Evan, that's great!" His mom claps her hands. "So what was it you wanted to tell me?"

Evan looks down, trying to decide how to explain it. "Well, I might have made a friend." His mom nods, evidently trying not to look too excited or surprised, but he can tell she's thrilled. "He's um… Well, he's Zoe's brother Connor." He holds up his cast to demonstrate – yesterday he didn't stay up waiting for her, so she hasn't yet seen it. "He's kind of angry a lot, but he doesn't have any friends and everyone makes fun of him" – there's an implication of _like me_ – "so we decided to eat lunch together. He likes Harry Potter too."

"Well, great!" His mom nods encouragingly. "But you said he's angry a lot?"

Evan wants to tell her everything, but he can't stand making her worry, so he shrugs and tells a half-truth. "Well, everyone laughs at him because of how he he looks and they say he's crazy because he's different."

"I see." His mom smiles in an infuriatingly understanding way.

"Today someone made fun of my anxiety because he and I were sitting together," Evan admits, looking down. "They said we were crazy. And then they started a rumor that Connor and I were dating. And that's why Zoe talked to me." He knows how that sounds, he knows that telling his mom about people bullying him is childish and is just going to make her worry for him, but talking to her has always made him feel better.

She nods sympathetically and rubs her hands on her knees, and Evan knows that means she's searching for something to say. She's not all that socially-conscious either, and sometimes that means she doesn't say what he needs to hear. That doesn't make it easier for him when she does seem to miss the point entirely, but at least he understands that just because she says the wrong thing doesn't mean she thinks the wrong thing. "I'm so sorry, honey," she says, and he nods, because that's all he needs her to say.

"It's okay. It's, um… I don't mind, mostly. You get used to it."

"You never get used to that kind of thing," his mom says, smiling a wry, knowing little smile.

Evan's not sure what to say to that, because she's right. But he still doesn't want to admit how much all the whispers get to him, so he shrugs a little, hands twisting tightly together on his lap, and says, "Well, at least I've got someone to talk to it about now."

"I'm glad," she tells him.

"I should go to bed."

"Good idea."

Evan gets up, gives her a somewhat awkward half-hug, and takes his laptop upstairs with him.

His room is dim, with only his desk light on, and he leaves it that way, curling up on his bed and eyeing his bookshelf for inspiration. His book collection has taken him years to build, but he owns all his favorites and a few extra classics. Tonight none of them look like what he wants to read, but he settles for _The Yearling_ and thumbs through it to find his favorite part. The book is incredibly sad and he can't seem to read the last chapters anymore, but he does enjoy the parts of it before that. He's aware that's a little childish of him, but he's got enough things stressing him out without reading a book with a sad ending.

 _"He decided that sunrise and sunset both gave him a pleasantly sad feeling. The sunrise brought a wild, free sadness; the sunset, a lonely yet a comforting one. He indulged his agreeable melancholy until the earth under him turned from gray to lavender and then to the color dried corn husks."_

It was late already and he knew he had to get up early and the room felt as if it was drawing in close around him, but the pages kept turning as if of their own accord and he got lost in the story and let himself forget that tomorrow was going to be another day of stumbling through crowded hallways of people who thought he was crazy, like Jody fighting through the forest after his dying friend. Because Evan read through to the end and it made him feel lost but he turned the pages until there were no more to turn and the clock read 1:00 AM and even the dim lights of the room couldn't keep him from falling into a restless, confused sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: Tada, got a chapter for you! With some Evan/Zoe convo and Heidi time (I adore Heidi guys) and Jared being a humorous asshole.**

 **Zoe wants Connor to have friends but she also doesn't want him hurting anyone, and lbr he's not really a safe friend for Evan. However, it'll all be okay.**


	6. Chapter 6: He Couldn't Talk To You

Chapter 6: He Couldn't Talk To You

After dinner, and after he's forced himself to sit through conversation long enough to avoid a reprimand from Larry, Connor returns to his room to read.

There's a knock on his door just as he's getting lost in the story again, and he ignores it. It's Zoe's knock, he knows, but he doesn't bother answering.

She opens his door. He used to be able to lock people out, but Larry removed the lock after one too many "incidents" that made him uncomfortable. Connor looks up and glares at her; the invasion of privacy – really the fact that she's there at all – puts his hackles up. "Get out," he growls.

She barely reacts, which wouldn't be a surprise except that she actually looks... curious. Wary, like she usually does, but also like she wants to ask him a question. Which never happens anymore.

"I wanted to... I want to talk," she says, and Connor responds on autopilot even though he's wanted to talk to her for days, weeks, months, years.

"I'm not stopping you. Just go where I can't hear you and we won't have a problem." He's spitting venom and at this point it's just what he does.

But Zoe gives no indication that this makes her angry, other than a small frown and a clenched fist. "I want to talk to you, asshole," she says steadily. "About... Well, about Evan."

Connor puts his book down and crosses his arms, giving her a scathing look. "How many times are you gonna bring him up to me? I get it. 'Don't shove Evan, leave Evan alone, don't corrupt poor little Evan Hansen.' Piss off."

She scoffs at him but almost immediately seems to rein herself back in, calm again, and sits down next to him on his bed. Connor isn't sure what to make of that at all, and he decides to bite his tongue.

"I don't want to talk about that stuff," she says stiffly. "At school, they're saying you and he are dating. Which I know you aren't, I asked him," she adds swiftly. "But they're saying that. Because you ate lunch together. And you signed his cast yesterday."

Connor looks down. She doesn't look or sound mad but he's sure she's going to tell him to stay away from Evan and stop making his life worse – hell, he's been saying that to himself all day. And she does, sort of.

"You shouldn't make him put up with all that," she tells him, sharp and harsh. She's fidgeting and leaning away from him and she sounds really angry suddenly, like she doesn't want to be doing this, but she's here. In his room. Talking. "I told him he should leave you alone but I don't think he's going to."

Connor realizes suddenly that she wants to know why. Wants to know why he signed Evan's cast, why he sat with Evan at lunch and defended him from Michaels, why Evan doesn't want to stay away from him.

"He should listen to you," Connor says wryly.

"Yeah. I know."

"We aren't dating, he wasn't lying. So you can leave now."

"That isn't what I wanted to know."

Connor shoves off his bed (that makes her flinch) and walks over to his bookshelf to fiddle with the old Rubix cube perched next to his Harry Potter collection. "Well, what the hell do you want? I'll say whatever you want, just get out of my goddamn room. It isn't like you want to be here anyway."

"You're right," she says dully, and he hears her stand. "I don't. Forget I asked."

He doesn't say anything to her but then he realizes she hasn't moved. That she's still standing by his bed and turning the pages of his book. "Is it good?" she asks, when he looks at her.

He wants to say 'why would you care,' but instead he says, "Yeah."

She looks around his room, then asks, "What other books did you get today?"

He shrugs. "Nothing you'd like. World War 2 books."

"Cool."

"Great. Nice talk. Now you can go tell Larry I'm not cutting or smoking." He doesn't know why he says that.

Zoe scowls and suddenly she's wading through his things looking like her usual stormy self. "Yeah, good idea. I don't know why I even bothered, you're hopeless."

Connor doesn't know why that stings so much but he takes a stride towards her, snarling, "Yeah, I don't know either. Why bother with me, I'm just your drug-addicted brother who makes you unpopular with everyone. How tragic for you."

She's gone. Out the door, doesn't close it behind her, doesn't look at him. This is the closest thing they've had to a conversation in ages and he's blown it. He almost wants to run after her and say something else, something stupid like the titles of the other books he borrowed or that he sits with Evan because it makes him feel less alone or how he wishes she'd dye her hair again, but he just goes back to his bed and reopens his book and tries to focus on the words instead of how awful he feels.

That proves to be unhelpful. All he can think about is Zoe, and his family, and how stupid everything is. He's always wished he had someone, _anyone_ who cared what happened to him, but whenever he really thinks about it, he knows that even if someone would pass the time of day with him, it wouldn't last. He's toxic, angry, self-destructive, and cruel, and not even his own family can deal with him anymore. If he wasn't so selfish, dragging someone else into his mess would be unthinkable.

But he is selfish, and he's excited to talk to Evan. Even though he knows he's going to ruin Evan's already non-existent social life and hurt him and make Zoe angrier at him, he's actually looking forward to going to school tomorrow.

He forces himself to keep reading, to finish his book, until Larry comes upstairs and shuts off his light and snaps his door shut like Connor's still ten. Connor considers reading something else, but he feels too confused and low, plus he thinks he'll need a while to recover from the ending of _The Little Prince_. So he lays down and tugs his grey comforter over his head and goes to sleep with the story still circling in his head like a forlorn bird.

 _"I realized clearly that something extraordinary was happening. I was holding him close in my arms as if he were a little child; and yet it seemed to me that he was rushing headlong toward an abyss from which I could do nothing to restrain him."_

* * *

The car ride to school is about 600 times worse than it usually is, which is probably why he and Zoe never try to talk to each other. Because it makes everything harder. She's silent the whole way, silent when he gets out of the car, and she stays sitting (silently) in the driver's seat until he's halfway to the building. He adjusts his messenger bag and keeps his head down as he walks inside, past a couple boys who are holding open the door for a friend.

"Hey, Connor!"

He considers not turning around, because after twenty seconds of trying to recognize the voice, he realizes it's that kid Kleinman. However, people are looking, and Kleinman is loud, so he turns around and glares through his hair at him. "What the hell."

Kleinman spreads his hands, shrugging. "Well, just saying hey. Since you're dating my best friend and all."

"You make a shit best friend," Connor snaps. "And I wouldn't talk to you even if I _was_ dating him." Then he turns around and resumes walking. Jared Kleinman is not worth his time.

Thankfully, Kleinman leaves him be, and people edge out of his way so he has a nice clear path down the hallway. Today he has fewer classes than he had yesterday, which means that after English, when he skips for a while to smoke, they won't miss him right away. Not that most of them even expect him to be here by now – no one in this high school expects anything of him. In the yearbook, he's going to be voted "Least Likely to Succeed" – if he isn't dead. Then he'll get a lame block of text "remembering" him, like that girl who was shot two years ago. The yearbook had said "In Memoriam," but it was obvious that no one writing the piece had known her or cared that she was dead.

He is thinking _way_ too much. Hell, he almost wants to skip English.

But he won't.

The class is just another early lesson – Ms. Silvia has a lot to say about what they're going to do this year, and then she tells them to write her a five hundred word essay about what they hope to be doing five years from now. Connor likes her because while she isn't exactly "cool," she obviously cares about what she's teaching. That's why he doesn't think he can write the paper, because while lying is easy and he does it all the time, there are some people he can't bring himself to disappoint. He thinks Ms. Silvia is one of them.

After English, he's on his way out to the parking lot when he passes Evan, poking around in his locker and definitely not actually doing anything, like he's trying to look busy. Connor kind of just wants to walk past, but there's still a piece of pie in a box in his bag, and if Evan's trying so hard to look busy, something's probably wrong. Connor is horrible at talking to people, especially when he actually cares what they think of him, but he's pretty sure that when you're friends with someone, you're not supposed to ignore them when they're upset.

Evan notices him just as he thinks this, and gives him a weird, awkward smile that barely hides the fact that he's definitely trying not to cry. "Hey, Connor," he says.

"Hey." Connor gestures at his locker. "Busy?"

"No, no, I'm just, um... Just grabbing something that I, um, forgot. Before my next class. But it might not be in here, so-"

It's obvious even Evan doesn't think this lie is convincing because he's staring at the floor. "Yeah, there are like four things in there, Hansen," Connor says, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I- Yeah." Evan rubs the back of his neck. "I have time to kill, I guess?"

"I'm leaving," Connor says. "You wanna skip a class or two? I'm gonna get high. You don't have to smoke with me but I have pie, which is almost as good."

Evan looks up, looking startled and kind of scared. This is actually a terrible idea, Connor can't encourage Evan to skip class and hang out with him while he breaks the law. This is literally exactly what Zoe warned him not to do. "I, um... I can't skip, I need to keep my grades up because - Well, it's for college, I need college and scholarships and- But I have a free period right now? So I can go for a bit?" He looks so damn hopeful that Connor cracks a smile.

"Okay. I don't have my car, so we have to take yours."

Evan flushed. "I don't, um, have a car either. I can't really afford it, so..."

"Oh, cool." Connor waves his hand. "I walk a lot anyway. Let's go."

This still isn't a very good idea, but he thinks that Evan really needs to get out of here for a bit. He cares too much what everyone here says about him, and it shows.

Evan closes his locker, hikes his backpack over both shoulders, and shrugs uncomfortably. "So, um, where are we going?"

"I don't know. Somewhere nearby where I won't get caught." Connor doesn't want to walk all the way to the orchard since Evan actually needs to get back for class. "I'll get you back here in time, don't worry," he adds, because Evan is almost definitely worrying about that.

"Okay."

Connor starts walking, and Evan scrambles to come with him. He's not sure what to say now – he hasn't gotten this far in his plan yet. So he goes with what worked yesterday. "I got _The Little Prince_ from the library."

"You did?" Evan sounds absolutely ecstatic. "What did you think?" He's hardly even stammering.

"It's the most tragic book I've ever read, and I read classical mythology for fun," Connor huffs.

"Is that… good?"

"Hell yes. It's amazing."

"Oh."

Connor stops at the end of the hallway, thinking, and Evan stops a few steps afterward looking sheepish. The high school is basically laid out like a giant square, with the auditorium and gym in the center of the square. If he follows the square to the left, he'll be taking the south exit, which would be better if he wants to go to the overgrown stretch of land behind the furniture store. If they take the exit directly in front of them however, they'll come out northwest, which is good if he wants to go to the river.

The river is closer, plus Evan probably wouldn't be as freaked out by that – there are usually fewer people around there. So he turns right. "Come on."

He feels a little mean dragging Evan around at his heels like this, but he needs a smoke and Evan needs a break. They don't talk on the way to the river, which is hugely awkward, but it's hard to make conversation when he's focused on his destination.

Their town actually has a gorgeous river, wide and clear with a pebbly bottom and relatively clean banks. The city puts a lot of work into keeping it nice because it's a good asset to have in the summer. Tourism and all that. Fortunately for Connor, where they're going, the banks are wooded, so people generally don't swim there. The only danger is the odd fisherman who knows that just there, there's a very good spot to catch catfish. Connor used to fish there, before things with Larry got terrible.

He doesn't tell Evan any of this. Just: "We're gonna stop here."

"I love this," Evan says quietly, staring out over the water. Then he seems to catch himself, and gives an awkward shrug. "It's um, a cool view, I guess."

"I love it too," Connor agrees. He's already grabbing the blunt and lighter from a hidden pocket in his bag, so while he's being honest, he's also kind of distracted. The white noise is driving him insane and he just wants it to quiet down.

"Oh." Evan grins, until he sees the blunt in Connor's hand and edges away. It's a little funny except it's also really not. "I don't, um, if my mom- I can't- Just breathe away from me?"

Oh right, Evan going back to school smelling like weed wouldn't go over well. Because he's actually a model student and not a total trainwreck. So Connor maneuvers so that he's downwind of Evan, sits down on a tree root, and puts the blunt to his lips.

"You wanna talk about that book?" he says, after a minute, because Evan looks like he regrets coming along and he's probably still upset over whatever had him hiding in his locker earlier, but Connor doesn't want to talk about depressing shit.

"Yeah, sure."

Neither of them say anything. _This_ , Connor thinks, amused, _is why I have no friends_. "So it's a kid's book," he starts. "Thought it sounded kind of stupid at first, but when I looked it up it looked alright, so I checked it out."

"Yeah, it has that kind of... name, I guess," Evan says. "You didn't think a little boy on a tiny planet falling in love with a rose sounded stupid?"

"Nope." Connor blows out smoke and watches it drift away. "Anyway, I've read stupider."

"Oh."

"So it kind of ripped my heart out and stomped on it," he says matter-of-factly. Sometimes when he's high he starts talking in Tumblr-speak; sassing his dad in memes makes for almost twice the hilarity. He should do it when he's sober.

Evan blinks. "Yeah, me too. Every time I read it, actually."

"I don't get what we're supposed to take away from it," Connor drawls, waving his hands expansively. "I can't figure out whether it means suicide makes sense or that your loved ones are never really gone or something Christian-y or what. You got any ideas?"

"I don't know." Evan shrugs. "I don't think the suicide one though, it doesn't make sense within the context of the story. Is that super nerdy?

"Hell yeah." Connor laughs. "I guess you're right though."

"Okay." Evan's back to twisting his hands together and picking at his cast.

Impulsively, Connor holds out his blunt in Evan's direction. "Want some?" He shouldn't be doing this, really, but Evan just looks so tense. He needs to relax in a major way.

Evan flinches a little and his knuckles go white. "No, um, no. Not really. Thanks, but that's... that's not a good idea."

"Right." Connor sighs and takes a hit himself. "Bad idea?"

"Yeah. I mean... Yeah. Kind of."

"You're right. Sorry, just thought you needed some help relaxing."

"That might be true." Evan laughs like he wasn't expecting to, like he's being forced to find this funny. "Um, so... Why are we doing this?"

"Because school is shit and overrated. Pay attention, Hansen."

Evan looks down, shaking his head. He can't keep his hands still. Connor doesn't think he's ever seen Evan not fidgeting. "No, I mean... why did you ask me to come along? And have- smoke with you?"

Connor sighs. "Cause you looked like your day was sucking. And I have pie. Oh right, I promised you pie. This is the best pie ever." He pulls open his messenger bag and takes out the box that holds his pie. Thankfully it isn't squashed. "There's this shop by the youth theater – I think it's the best in the state. Here."

"You didn't, um- There's nothing to eat it with," Evan says, and Connor swears and digs around his bag again.

"You're right. Well, now you know. Best damn pie in the whole damn state. We'll have it at lunch." He takes the box back from Evan and very carefully places it in his bag. "Sure you don't wanna try a smoke?"

"Yeah." Evan sits down on the ground, cross-legged, and starts picking at blades of grass.

"So who said what?" Connor sighs contentedly. He's feeling chill enough to have this conversation now. The white noise is gone and now he's just curious. "Because I swear you were gonna cry earlier."

Evan grimaces and shakes his head, mumbling something.

"Hm?"

"I said, I wasn't going to cry. Nobody said anything. I was just trying to, um, stay busy."

Connor's not buying it. "Uhuh. You're really shit at lying. Also you do it a lot."

"Well what do you want me to say?" Evan snaps, quickly. Then he kind of pulls back again. "People say stuff all the time, it's what they do."

That, Connor will admit, is true.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Hey, new chapter! I'm neglecting a two-year old fic for this one, I hope y'all are grateful.**

 **I just watched *ahem* I mean listened to the musical again tonight, so I finished editing this chapter for you.**

 **Please review!**


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